We have recently come back from an incredible 2 week holiday to Cape Town. The long- awaited holiday is an attempt to keep ourselves ‘sustainable’ by taking time to rest and take a break from life in Uganda.

Cape Town is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen with panoramic views of spectacular mountains, shimmering turquoise-coloured sea and expanses of white beaches. There is so much to see and do and the 2 weeks weren’t enough, although we managed to hike up Table Mountain, horse-ride, see the Boulder Beach penguins, visit the Aquarium, visit a Winery have a surfing lesson and so many more things. The kids loved it and so did we...

Surfing Lesson on Muizenburg Beach

Muizenburg Beach Huts

Signal Hill with Table Mountain in the Background

The Boomslang, Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens

Aquarium

Bird's Nests, Company Gardens

African Penguins

Spier Winery

Big Swing at Spier

Aerial Rope Course

Asher Loved the Aerial Ropes Course

Having grown up in DR Congo and living in East Africa, I have always said that South Africa is not the real Africa. Mostly, I mean that it is so much more ‘developed’ than many other parts of Africa that I visited. It’s GDP has been the highest in Africa, it has beautifully smooth roads, a well-developed railway network, industries and seems well organised. It’s nice to be able to drink from the taps too!

Being on holiday, I still couldn’t help myself trying to get under the skin of what is going on in South Africa and understand the culture better (although Em told me not to think too much…!)

As everyone is so aware, South Africa has had a turbulent history and it strange to think that it was so recent. It was strange to visit Robben Island with Amelie and have one of the ex-political prisoners called ‘Vusumzi Mcongo’ talk to us about his experiences. He encouraged the roomful of tourists to also visit a township to understand that not a lot has changed since the apartheid era and share this with the outside world.

Sign at District 6 Museum

Nelson Mandela's Prison Cell

Vusumzi Mcongo

Robben Island

Since Apartheid, South Africa is now known as the ‘Rainbow Nation’ where people of all colours and races are supposedly equal and welcome, but being in Cape Town, it felt to me that a lot still had to change.

South African Multicoloured Flag

Driving from our lovely Airbnb family home by a lake to Cape Town central, we pass the security guys protecting the neighbourhood. We pass black guys waiting at the roadside looking for work and money. We pass through a township with signs saying ‘smash and grab hotspot’. Big electric fences with the ‘tic-tic’ noise are common sights. Locals tell you to be very careful with your bags at beaches, in town or on tourist areas like Table Mountain. Beaches like stunning Noordhoek beach that we visited were targets where people had recently been killed and the same fate had befallen walkers in the hills around Muizenburg where we were staying. In the early morning, our taxi wouldn’t stop at red lights for fear of smash and grab thieving.

Signs Warning about Crime

Noordhoek Beach

Iconic and Beautiful Table Mountain

It was strange taking the train into town to pick up our hired car. On the whole 45 minutes, I was the only white person. I had been advised by friends that public transport is generally not safe, but being from the UK where everyone takes the train, it was weird how segregated parts of life in Cape Town are. As I was sitting on the train, I was reading about a young guy that had been killed riding the same route I was in January after fleeing from attempted thieves. I also witnessed a thief pelting out the station at great speed and another suspect being apprehended by station guards. An exciting way to travel, anyway!

To me, a passer-by in Cape Town, it feels like there are still 2 South Africas, with the divide still being a colour one, but more so an economic one. I am sure that those who lived through the apartheid era will tell me that the changes to South Africa up till now have been momentous, but to many blacks living in South Africa, I wonder what that change has been.

One of the most memorable occasions for our family was seeing a concert of the Origin choir organised by Colin Peckham whom I knew from our previous life in Edinburgh. Incredibly, since many of the band and choir had come from Edinburgh, some of our friends were there too! It was very strange seeing old friends in a completely different context.

The concert was in Mitchell’s Plain, an area featured on CNN for being one of the most dangerous places in the world. During the evening, the pastor explained how he had to live with being held at gun-point on several occasions and how he would often be burying gang members. However, he said that things were changing because people were starting to get serious about church. Social changes were happening and transformation was taking place. After the concert, it was humbling to see about 15 people give their lives to Jesus (no guys, only women!).

Origin Choir

Great Mates from Edinburgh in Origin Choir

What I witnessed in South Africa made me consider again what true development is like. Emma and I talked about whether we would want to ever live in South Africa with its incredible beauty and natural resources and both of us were not sure. Although on one hand, there is so much material richness as seen in the beautiful yachts at the V and A waterfront, expensive cars (there were so many shiny cars on the road) and expansive malls and stunning wine estates, there is a terrible feeling of social poverty. Although South Africa is one of the most developed African nations, it wouldn’t be an easy place to live because of the social poverty and brokenness obvious almost everywhere we looked.

V and A Waterfront

Uganda would like to become ‘developed’ and reach higher standards. This current administration, ‘aims at transforming Uganda from a predominantly peasant and low income country to a competitive upper middle income country’ by 2040 in a project called Vision 2040 with a per capita income at $9500 from the current $615. There are plans to develop industries, the railway, modernise agriculture and increase energy production amongst others. I believe a nation needs a vision for material development, but seeing a country like South Africa also reminds me of the greater need for wholistic development.

Uganda Vision 2040

Our dream for Uganda and what we work for here is summed up in Bryant L Myers’ book ‘Walking with the Poor’ in describing transformational development:

“The kingdom vision for the better human future is summarised by the idea of shalom: just, peaceful, harmonious and enjoyable relationships with each other, ourselves, our environment and God.”

Despite being known as laid-back this can also be true of Africa. The over-used phrase ‘No hurry in Africa’ is definitely not true on the roads in general as people that have experienced the traffic in Nairobi or ‘Jam-pala’ know from frustrating experience. At Christmas, many people are traveling back to the villages to visit family. So much so, that Kampala, Uganda’s capital, is known to be a lot quieter with fewer traffic jams due to this migration outwards. Due to the increased demand, bus fares increase in price and it is hard to get a seat.

Unfortunately, it is also well-known that traveling around Christmas is more dangerous too. There are increased incidences of vehicle crashes and people intensify their prayers for road safety, praying against the ‘spirit of accidents’, whatever that means!

In general, our area of Africa is known to have poor roads and high road fatalities. Uganda, for instance, has 27.4 traffic deaths per 100,000 people compared to 2.9 in the UK (WHO, 2015). Road surfaces are often dangerous being pot-holed and narrow and many road users are untrained. Cattle, goats, chickens, bicycles and children are wandering near the main roads and straying onto them. Police can be more interested in getting their ‘Christmas money’ rather than maintaining safety standards such as overloaded vehicles. It is an unfortunate fact that 90% of the world’s road fatalities occur in low to middle-income countries, despite these countries having half of the world’s vehicles (WHO, 2015).

I am therefore always more nervous and prayerful when making long journeys in the car and especially by bus or boda boda (a motorbike taxi).

With these thoughts at the forefront of my mind, I nervously and prayerfully begin my long journey to Kisumu, Kenya where I was hoping to organise a new birth certificate for Amelie, our first-born who was born there in 2010. At that time, we worked with REAP for a year, a Christian agriculture and development organisation. For some reason, Amelie’s original birth certificate was missing at the Government Registry so they wanted me there in person with evidence to get a new one processed.

I took an over- night bus out of Arua to Kampala with KK Traveller, paying the extra money for a ‘Comfort’ bus. My thinking was that by paying a few pounds more, I would be traveling with the more affluent customer and be less likely to get robbed. Being near the back of the bus, I kept feeling the awful ribbed humps that regularly came up on the highways. They really jolted me and kept me from falling into a good sleep. Although I don't like night-buses, they are very popular since people feel they don't lose a day by traveling, but because of the lack of rest, my body grumbles against it and I feel groggy.

We reach Kampala at 6 in the morning. I have lots of jobs to do in Kampala and so use my trusted boda-boda driver around town. In my experience, this is really the only way to get around Kampala to schedule if you have limited time, as you don't know when the jams in town will keep you from moving. Jams seem to happen anytime, and have known to last 4 hours, crawling through just a few kilometres.

On my boda in Kampala

Riding a boda-boda in Kampala feels like an intense adrenaline rush, similar in feeling to an extreme sport, I expect, probably because you are taking your life in your hands. (Living in Africa itself often feels like living in a perpetual extreme sport, hence there being no need for paying for these experiences). As you dodge around cars, trucks and matatus, there is only marginal time and space for any mistake. I always marvel at the skill at the way the boda driver manoeuvres, his eye-hand co-ordination seems incredible. Despite the fear and worry I feel inside, I keep as still and relaxed as possible so as to not put my driver off and so make a mistake.

However, it is also a well-known fact that the highest causes of accidents and injuries is through riding a boda-boda, especially since most riders and passengers don't wear helmets. Peace Corps, an American volunteer agency working in Uganda, for instance, does not allow its workers to ride boda-bodas at all. In 2010, a study on the “Impact of Bodaboda Motor Crashes on the Budget for Clinical Services at Mulago Hospital, Kampala” found that 75% of all road traffic accidents involved boda bodas. (Mulago government hospital is the largest hospital in Uganda.)

Thankfully, I am able to get my work done safely. In the meantime, Emma has sent round a message to friends on WhatsApp asking for prayer for my travels as the morning brought news of 2 buses colliding on the Arua-Kampala route.

The bus to Kisumu, Kenya on Modern Coast is early the next morning and my boda-boda driver weaves expertly through congested roads to get me there on time. Carrying my small suitcase and backpack on the back as I ride makes it an even less comfortable and potentially risky ride.

The Modern Coast coach really surprised me with its comfortable large reclining seats like armchairs that you sank right into and small TV monitors. Unfortunately, the TVs didn't work, but the overall look of the bus was very impressive.

The interior of the Modern Coast coach

People trafficking warning at the Kenya/Uganda border

Kisumu is like a walk down memory lane for me as Emma and I lived there 7 years ago while working for REAP. It is also where I was hoping to get Amelie’s new birth certificate organised within the few days I had there, the main reason for traveling 780 kilometres across East Africa.

It was also really good to connect with old friends and colleagues. The founder and director of REAP is the impressively bearded Dr Roger and we had co-ordinated so we could catch up there. As he drives by, local youths call out ‘Jesus!’ or ‘Saddam!’, 2 very different people! REAP’s work serves to support the materially poor with relevant teaching on managing land and homestead. It is very interesting.

Unflattering selfie at REAP demonstration farm

Dr Roger

Kisumu centre

One of my old REAP colleagues, Sam, lives about 70km out along Lake Victoria near a fishing village called Asembo. Sam was once a fisherman himself before fish stocks grew too scarce. (Environmental problems like low fish stocks are growing issue on Lake Victoria). I had stayed out at his village home a couple of times before, and he invited me there for another overnight to meet his 2nd wife, a Ugandan lady he affectionally calls ‘Matooke’ after the famous Ugandan food, and eat tilapia fish, the food the Luo people, like him, love.

So it was that I ended up traveling on a ‘Matatu’, the ubiquitous white van that serves as an affordable transport for local people over longer distances in towns or between towns. These white vans are notoriously bad road users that don't follow any traffic rules, stopping when and where they want without using any signals. In Kisumu, they are often pimped up with bright paint-jobs and stickers emblazoned over them and music pumping. On our matatu, the music was mixed by dj big, vig or fig, I couldn't quite get his name whenever his tagline was mentioned in the music: ‘dj big, the mixmaster’.

Matatu

The ubiquitous matatu...

The matatu waits until it is full of passengers before leaving. There is a bit of haggling needed before accepting to enter as the ‘conductor’ has quoted a high price, likely because of my being a ‘Mzungu’. As we sit waiting, the matatu passengers are bombarded by sales people (walking shops) selling a whole range of items despite the ‘No Hawking’ sign behind them: sunglasses, watches, drinks, vests, mirrors, padlocks, necklaces, bracelets, torches, reading glasses, belts… The sales person uses various tactics to sell their product including dropping the item on your lap or hanging around and explaining just how much you need to buy it or looking at you longingly. I end up getting a newspaper and a lollipop.

Selling watches to matatu passengers

Selling juice to matatu passengers

The matatu leaves when all available space is taken up. This means that there are 4 people per row instead of the intended 3 maximum with the conductor himself hanging outside of the open door or standing up and leaning over the passengers. On many levels, the matatu is a typical African experience. There is no personal space so is great If you like things cosy. It’s definitely not a British way to travel… Bodies are pressed together and where they meet, it gets sweaty within the hot metal van. Without seat belts, the pressing together makes me feel a bit safer somehow. However, manoeuvring in and out of your seats takes some contortions, especially if you are of a wider and ‘traditional’ build.

‘Meet my best friend’ called our friendly night watchman, as another jovial guy walked past the house… After the usual greetings, I asked the watchman what his friend’s name was, ‘Oh,’ he replied, ‘I don’t know.’

It made us laugh that he didn’t know his best friend’s name, but we’ve seen this happen a few times here in Arua.

For instance, other local friends live together in a shared homestead: three brothers, their wives, children, extra orphans and various animals, all doing life together. So it surprised us when he didn’t know the name of the sister-in- law who they share a home with. He said he just calls her ‘Mama Lilian’ after the firstborn child.

We have had the privilege of naming a few of our friends’ children recently. Two of the new babies in Arua are called ‘Zoë’ meaning ‘Life’ after Emma’s youngest sister. Another friend took Emma’s suggestion of ‘Aaron’ for his son. He likely isn’t aware of the Scottish island that our Arran is named after.

Big Zoe celebrating her 1st birthday!

Baby Zoe with Mum and big sister

In our culture, there is much thought, discussion and even prayer when choosing a name for the unborn child. Names are chosen because of its meaning, or because of a significant person or sometimes because of the attractive way it sounds. Most of the time, the baby name is chosen beforehand. Amongst many African households, a baby is traditionally not named until a baby shows he/she is surviving. The infant mortality, although falling, is still high and so it is not practical or emotionally convenient to name a baby from the outset.

Lugbara names have traditionally been negative. Children will be named according to the circumstances they were born into or how the mother is feeling. During wartime, children may be named ‘Adiga’ meaning ‘war’. If a mother has been having struggles, a child can be named Driciru, a girl’s name meaning ‘suffering’. A lady I worked with had a mother who had many babies that didn’t survive infancy. For this reason, she was called ‘Drajoru’, meaning ‘Death in the place’. Drateru and Dravoru (‘Dra’ meaning ‘death’) are other names related to death. Another lady is called ‘Lekuru’ which means ‘dislike’ because her dad didn’t want to have another girl and actually wanted her thrown away. She was one of 9 girls in the family (out of 12). Another lady is called ‘Useless’ in Lugbara because her dad didn’t want another girl.

The sad name list goes on…

The name ‘Candia’ is translated ‘Misery’, and is a surprisingly common name for girls and boys. A woman whose husband ran away after giving birth called her son ‘Foolish’. A colleague I work with at Lifeskills told me her story of being abandoned by her father when she was a baby. Just before giving birth, her mother was homeless. Her mother ended up giving birth amongst the cassava plants in a field. Her mother called her ‘wanderer’.

Although there are still plenty of unfortunately- named people running about, thankfully, there has been some change in the way children are named as the hopeful message of the Bible takes root and Biblical names like Love (Leta) or Joy (Ayiko) are being given. The hope of the Bible message is the reason I appreciate it so much. It is the reason we work here in West Nile. Whether it is in the family, in farming or in doing commerce, the Biblical message is in the business of changing lives and making a difference for people, including how someone is named. To me, Christianity is not a religion to help people pretend to be pious and act holy, it is something which can really make positive change. That should be good news for new babies being born in West Nile…

The pastel yellow dust billows behind the truck as it careers towards me like charging rhino, taking over the marram road. I get out the way by running into the ditch, being careful I don't trip on the rough surface. The cloud makes me disappear for a few seconds and I try not to inhale. Still, I feel the grains of dirt in my mouth and taste the earth. My puffy hair makes a good dust catcher as I will discover in the shower later on.

Running on the dirt road

In the UK, I feel quite proud of myself when I pound the streets. As I race down the Edinburgh pavements, I feel part of something bigger, a culture of health and fitness. As I jog along Portobello beach, struggle up Arthur's seat or disappear down one of the network of cycle tracks criss-crossing the town, I am one of the thousands trying to push their bodies to get a little fitter. It is popular wisdom that running is an excellent lifestyle choice. There are races up and down the country of varying distances, running magazines giving advice on training schedules and specialised running shops.

Running in the Edinburgh Marathon Festival 10km 2016

Running in Africa, though, is a very different experience.

In Africa, I feel like a TV show, an entertainment for whole villages as I run by. People turn their heads towards the strange sight. I feel the eyes of everyone following me, the ghost moves by, panting and sweating in the 30 degree temperatures. Little kids with ripped t-shirts and dirty faces pause while collecting firewood to shout 'Mundu' as I pass, cheering and waving. Often, the shouts turn to chants of 'Mundu, how are you, I am fine' repeated over and over and over. I am convinced they are taught this chanting at school to practice if they are ever lucky enough to encounter any strange 'whites'. As I near the kids, some will dart away into the long yellow grass, holding up their shorts with terrified faces, scared that I might eat them. If I have the extra energy, I will chase the scared kids further into the bush and act like I am going to catch them. This gives me morbid pleasure and some brief relief on the hot run.

At other times, though, I feel like I'm a hero in a marathon as peoples' faces light up, broad smiles on their faces and they shout 'Well done'! Recently, one lady wearing a scarf and selling vegetables at the road-side started clapping loudly.

Most of the time, I try to keep focused on keeping a good rhythm on the run, rather than get distracted by the innumerable staring faces or laughing youth. On one run, I counted how many times I greeted people and it was over 200 times! Otherwise, though, I am very thankful for my iPod dance tunes that insulates me from the crowding in of others. At the end of the day, this is supposed to be my 'leisure' or 'escape' time, even if it doesn't feel like it. Before coming to live cross-culturally, the missions training encouraged us to consider what hobby or activity you would do to keep yourself healthy. In a stressful environment, it is very important to practice self-care spiritually, emotionally and physically. Running and exercise is part of that self-care for me, but is more challenging to practice here.

It feels weird running here as it is so counter-cultural. What is the point of expending that extra energy? Most people, especially the women, are doing plenty of physical labour just to survive, digging in the fields, carrying 30kg bags of charcoal on their heads or fetching water. By necessity, most people often walk miles and miles and have dirty cracked feet to show for it. I sense pangs of guilt thinking that I am privileged enough to have to work off my extra calories from the chocolate cake Emma made, in an environment where some people might only eat one meal a day and their calorie intake might barely be enough to sustain themselves. This is a context where over 10.9 million people are food insecure across Uganda this year due to poor rains and poor harvests last season. It is also in a context where South Sudan, only 2 hours drive away is suffering from war-induced famine in some areas and critical food insecurity otherwise. It is sobering thought that is a privilege to be a leisure runner and know I have some responsibility with God's help to support others who are not so privileged. This is a burden that is always in the background of life here in Arua, even while I am running along dirt tracks.

These are exclamations when talking to friends and colleagues about the current dry spell in Arua.

Of course, it is ‘dry season’ when rains aren’t expected till sometime in March and when the weather is especially hot and dry. Inside the house last night, the temperature didn’t drop below 29 degrees and it was stifling lying in bed and hard to sleep. Some local friends have told me they have been sleeping on the ground or outside. Of course, our fan couldn’t be on as the power was off. The water level in the dams are too low to produce much hydro-electricity, so load-shedding is the order. We are very thankful for our 3 solar panels that provide us some power. Daytime temperatures are 35 degrees plus.

But, this hot weather isn’t out of the ordinary. What is less common is that the normal ‘long rains’ from July to November of last year, didn’t arrive as expected and there was a lot less rainfall than normal. Crops like beans or maize that were planted dried out in the fields. Groundnuts that do especially well here, died. This has happened to vulnerable people living a subsistence lifestyle in a highly fragile environment. For these people, few buffers exist except the social networks which allow people to help each other in difficulty.

Friends and colleagues have shared their experience of what the drought has meant for them. Kevin (a woman!), who helps us with washing clothes explains that people have been sleeping on her compound to make sure they are early to the borehole near her as so many people are competing for the water. Lilian, our other helper tells us that she pays a boy about 10p to stand in line at the borehole to fill up her jerrycans as the queue is so long. Abdu, my colleague at Lifestitches says that he gets up at midnight or 1am to pump water because it is too busy at other times. Our security guard, John walks 5km to take a bath in the river since the borehole water is only used for drinking now.

Pumping water at a local borehole

A long line of jerry cans waiting for the borehole.

Collecting water is an all-day process

As usual in East Africa, there is scant attention given to the plight of common people and subsequently poor media coverage of the situation so it is difficult to know what is going on, however, it seems that La Nina may have played a role in the changed weather pattern. Of course, poor land management such as denuding the land of trees surely has a big effect on the rainfall.

Although town water was a bit haphazard before December, coming only at night, piped water suddenly completely dried up all over Arua. Water levels in the river were too low for the water company to pump from. Lucky for us, we had water in our rainwater tanks which gave us a buffer for a time, but after a short while, even those ran empty.

For the first time, we had to phone a water truck to come and fill up the rainwater tanks. This would allow me to pump water into the house to let us use the indoor plumbing.

Water being transported on the back of the pick-up

Thankfully, we have access to these water trucks that became very busy, sometimes making trips at 10pm to desperate customers like us!

What is remarkable to us about our friends and colleagues in Arua is how well people take these difficult circumstances. In the UK, any similar situation is unthinkable. There, we expect things to work well, or we will complain, write to the newspapers or even sue!

I am always impressed by the levels of difficulty and suffering that people endure and still manage to have a smile and laugh easily. People have an incredible attitude in the midst of suffering. It is common for friends to let you know that a family member has died in awful circumstances in a very matter-of-fact manner. On Wednesday, for example, one Lifestitches lady greeted me and then shared with me that her brother had died in a motorbike accident the day before. She wasn’t too fazed and got on with her work at the workshop. Here, death seems so common, but is an accepted part of life.

A negative consequence of this attitude of acceptance is that people have very low expectations and don’t hold organisations or the government to account for poor services. People are used to fending for themselves in all aspects of life. There is no expectation of change and little vision for a different world. This fatalistic attitude is said to hold development back. However, it could also be a ‘survival’ mentality borne out of experience of constantly being let down by systems like the health service or electricity board or corruption generally.

As someone with a Western perspective, it is incredible to appreciate that Arua’s water problem exists in a context of a nation with a significant portion of the world’s 2nd largest freshwater lake (Lake Victoria) and the source of the world’s longest river within its borders. Sadly, drought in a developing nation like Uganda is so acute because farmers rely so heavily on the rain. Less than 1% of agricultural land is irrigated. Farmers tell me how worried they are about this year’s rains as they couldn’t cope with another yield loss like last years.

Visiting the source of the longest river in the world, Jinja

Collecting water with cups from a drying stream

Despite the intensity of African life such as the water problems, power issues and poverty, it is a privilege for our family to live here. I often complain about the problems, but I also realise that it helps us have a perspective on what are the most important things in life, such as faith, hope, health or clean water.

These days, signs are good that the rains are already on the way, earlier than normal. There has been rain in Kampala and winds have been picking up. Today, there is even some cloud, thunder and a few drops of rain.

All promising signs, and a reminder of peoples’ fragile dependence and smallness in a big universe.

A little girl collects water from a spring near the Congo border in better weather